In disdain I watched from the window of my office
A patch of grass being redone
On the little ground between
The tallest structures of bricks and mortar
And I questioned the existence of the
Slender palms, spread across a reasonable green
It was a reassurance, to the ones like me
That there is the possibility of bloom
Even amidst the detached exchange of hellos and cold rubbing of shoulders
Or is there?
Or will there be the need to renew,
another patch of grass, as they threw
That burning cigarette, on its last leg
And pressed it under their shoe
Because that's what everything is reduced to
The three words - Reduce, Recycle and Reuse
That's what everything has reduced to.
